2
“You deal with the dirty old man?” Penelope Nguyen called out as Jeremy returned to the basement IT office.
The room was so perfectly cliché that Jeremy couldn’t imagine working anywhere else—one of the reasons he was thinking of delaying college.
The lights were dim. Any wall that wasn’t covered in electronics was painted matte black. It was as if the computer screens floated in the darkness, the only true sources of light. It was half hacker-cave and half future-spaceship. From here they serviced the artist lofts as well as five other high-rise office buildings Jack owned in downtown Seattle.
And then there was the other reason to not leave for a school three thousand miles away.
Penelope was more stunning than all of the gear put together.
As ethnically pure Vietnamese as he was
